Since I had so much luck getting rid of our nasty carpet and putting in tile, I set my sights on the grimy and aesthetically unpleasing linoleum in the kitchen. It was fugly to begin with, and in no way matched the new floor. Rip it out! I said. Tiling is easy!
Oh, gentle reader. Tiling is easy. Ripping out linoleum is not. The linoleum is gone now, but the papery backing and adhesive are all over the floor. Boiling water seems to loosen everything nicely, but that still means scraping the cement clean an inch at a time. We had to pry off all the quarter-round molding to get the lino up, and that will have to be replaced. While poking around under the cabinets I gained a deeper understanding for how flimsy they are. And in the middle of the floor we found what appears to be a seam of liquid leveler, which has now chipped up to form a little canyon across the kitchen.
The terrors that I found under the stove I can't begin to name. (Not to mention that my mom and I weren't willing to try disconnecting and moving the gas stove by ourselves, so horrors and a linoleum square remain.) There was something that appeared to be a dust-crusted, mummified Hello Kitty toy, which I can only assume had lain there, undisturbed and dreaming black dreams, since the house was built. Who knows what evils I've unleashed upon the world.
And for my next adventure, I get to rip out the rest of the carpet on the stairs!
Oh, gentle reader. Tiling is easy. Ripping out linoleum is not. The linoleum is gone now, but the papery backing and adhesive are all over the floor. Boiling water seems to loosen everything nicely, but that still means scraping the cement clean an inch at a time. We had to pry off all the quarter-round molding to get the lino up, and that will have to be replaced. While poking around under the cabinets I gained a deeper understanding for how flimsy they are. And in the middle of the floor we found what appears to be a seam of liquid leveler, which has now chipped up to form a little canyon across the kitchen.
The terrors that I found under the stove I can't begin to name. (Not to mention that my mom and I weren't willing to try disconnecting and moving the gas stove by ourselves, so horrors and a linoleum square remain.) There was something that appeared to be a dust-crusted, mummified Hello Kitty toy, which I can only assume had lain there, undisturbed and dreaming black dreams, since the house was built. Who knows what evils I've unleashed upon the world.
And for my next adventure, I get to rip out the rest of the carpet on the stairs!